Ignorance Isn't What We Have
by RadicalRae
Summary: Time has passed since Asura woke up, and the world is still recovering. Two people find peace in varying places, one being each other, and they ignore their scars and the nightmares. For now.
1. Chapter 1

**This is to be considered completely separate from everything I've written. It will always be marked as complete, but if I feel self indulgent I may add to it. I know that a Hiro x Pretty much anyone is not common, but a friend of mine were talking while I was sick this past week and realized something; in the episodes with Hiro in it, Soul seems hesitant to jump in and tear him down like everyone else. Of course, my sickly mind immediately jumps to a crush, and then a ship, and now this...**

 **I will mention that I did tweak it after getting better, so it shouldn't be as all over the place as it was.**

 **I don't own anything but Hiro's dog.**

 **WARNING: SUGGESTIVE THEMES AHEAD, NOTHING GRAPHIC OR IN DETAIL, BUT IT MENTIONS POSSIBLE NUDITY AND OTHER THINGS.**

 **X Line Break X**

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Years had passed since the Kishin's defeat. Well, technically, only two, but it felt like a lifetime. The press, the fans, people who wanted the what and the how and why - Soul felt like it was a constant tug of war on his opinion and it had left him feeling tired and old. He'd much rather leave Maka to it all, his ever faithful miester, to console the masses with the others by her side.

In the mean time, he'd be right here. Red eyes opened to regard the dark purple walls, the framed photos of photographs taken in breathtaking quality, the spent film kept neatly on a desk right next to a camera and a laptop covered in rock band stickers. The floor is a creamy white carpet, plush and soft underfoot should he decide to get up. The air is deliciously cold, chilled from the open window and lack of a working heater.

His gaze dropped to the other person in the room. A mess of pale blond hair, softer than silk and smelling of sweet lavender and mint. The person is lanky and lithe, with thin hips and narrow shoulders. They turn slightly, pressing one pale cheek to Soul's bare chest, long lashes fluttering against his neck. Crystal blue eyes open to looking at him, lazy and yet bright, questioning the weapon's wakefulness without need of words.

Hiro shifts again, letting out a heavy sigh through his nose, eyes falling shut once again. Soul rests a hand on the blond's back, fingers playing over the ridges of his spine, listening to the calm pulse of his heartbeat. They are both satisfied, both aware of each and every groove of the other - the scars, the stretch marks of growing, even the hickeys and bite marks left by each other. They fall into a semi uneasy sleep, the only kind they can after everything that happened two years ago - a trauma the entire world is still recovering from.

But here, in the quiet, they can ignore those scars, the nightmares, even the thousands of people that still want an answer to an answerless question.

X Line Break X

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In the morning, the sunlight still grey as dawn is, Hiro is up early, in boxers and a shirt that was once Soul's, now long hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He glides around the small apartment, occasionally finding himself smiling at good memories that fill the space and occupy his time. Making coffee for the two of them, a dark roast that smells of coffee beans and dark chocolate, a cat-like smile plays across thin lips. He thinks of sitting on this counter, leaning down to kiss Soul as he attempts to make dinner. He thinks of early mornings where the rush to work keeps them from more than a single kiss and goodbye, mornings where they sleep in, legs tangled together and hands entwined and just breathing each other in.

"You always smile like that when I'm not around." Strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him from his thoughts, rough lips brushing against the back of his usually covered neck. Hiro scoffs softly and turns to hand the mug of coffee to his significant other, another in his own slim hands soon after.

"Just enjoying the morning, love." Is his quiet response, hiding his smile in the lip of his mug. They move to the tiny living room, to the old couch that remembers their shapes and forms. Hiro curls into Soul's side, laying a hand on his chest and leaning his head against his shoulder. The morning is still grey, and there are unseen scars and the tiny pinpricks of an empty awfulness that sits within both of them. But Hiro looks up and smiles with bright eyes, and there is only warmth to be found there.

Soul kisses him, and he tastes of chocolate and coffee, and his soft hair smells of lavender and mint. This is happy, he decides, red eyes studying the way thin lips curve into a sated smile, how long eyelashes flutter, how his long neck curves as he rests his head. Even the curl of slender fingers against his shirt, the warmth of the lithe body next to his.

"I love you." Soul doesn't quite say it, he more like breathes it, staring down at this blond beauty that so many hurt and defiled. Hiro smiles. It's the smile that breaks his heart, the one that acknowledges the bad, the good, the half way decent and the scarring. It's the smile that speaks "I'm ok" without anything spoken aloud.

"I love you too." And they set aside coffee mugs and ignore the news and the phone calls from friends. They take one day from a year of struggle and strife, and they make it theirs. For once.

But when Maka knocks on the door, Hiro lets Soul go with a childish pout and a chaste peck of the cheek. He's not upset, not really. They have a lifetime to catch up on missed moments in the grey light of morning, of kisses lost in the time spent giving useless opinions about something that they wanted to forget.

Soul regards the purple walls and carpeted floors, the blue eyed young man sprawled across the couch, and smiles. Hiro beckons him with a flick of a skinny wrist, and how can he deny such sweetness in those eyes and that pretty little smile?

The simple answer: He can't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yes, another one. I'm being self indulgent right now, remember? That, and angst is kind of what I want to do.**

 **WARNING: UNDERAGE DRINKING, POSSIBLY SUGGESTIVE THEMES.**

 **X Line Break X**

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One long, grueling year after Asura was defeated, after Maka ended the madness driven nightmare, after they nearly died for a world they'd barely lived in, and people still flinch at the mention of the Kishin's name, of what he did and what had been done to the world. Lord Death doesn't mention it unless its in privacy, to his son or to his deathscythes. Black*Star likes to boast about the victory, but there is a haunted look that wasn't there before. Others just try and act like everything is normal and that they don't have nightmares that leave them screaming and sweating.

Some people can't handle the aftermath and fall like flies, losing to the darkness his sticky touch left in them. Some cling to one thing that's worth all the suffering and fight to stay afloat. Soul isn't sure which one he is, perhaps somewhere just in between; not wanting to fall, but not wanting to stay afloat either.

But when he steps inside the apartment, with its dark purple walls and the pale wood floors and the framed photos on the walls, he decides he wants to stay afloat, if only for the young man sitting on the couch, reading a book on the history of artists. Hiro has a bony elbow propped against the couch arm, a slim hand cupping his cheek, pale blond hair falling down his back and acting as a curtain to hide those crystal blue eyes.

Hiro looks up, blinks slow, long eyelashes fluttering. He smiles, playful and cat-like, and dog ears his page in the book. He sets it to the side and tucks long legs underneath him, head tilting in silent question. It's always like this, the blond stays quiet, watching with those blue eyes of his, thin lips turned into a firm line. Soul smiles, tired and too empty inside, and then the blond is smiling too, beckoning him closer with soft words that have little actual meaning.

When slim fingers curl into the material if his shirt, wrinkling it, and long eyelashes brush against his cheek as lips pepper sweet kisses to his jaw, the emptiness becomes a little less. He chases the mouth that tastes of sweets and coffee, and Hiro laughs, and slips away. He's going to make dinner, and gives a teasing flip of his hair. It's enough to make Soul smile and follow after, content just to watch him bustle about and be busy.

The night goes on, and they stay afloat for the time being.

X Line Break X

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Today, it's a fall day. Soul wakes to a silence that he shouldn't, and finds Hiro in the kitchen, glaring at a bottle of wine that was left by their friends. They sit on the couch, they draw the curtains closed, and they open the wine and get glasses to drink from. It's a bad day, Hiro whispers into the crook of Soul's neck, limbs shaking from something that isn't a nightmare, but isn't a hallucination either. They both get like this, though Soul's episodes are sometimes worse. He was there, saw it all go down. Hiro feels guilty for remembering the fear like he does, but Soul whispers soft words with little meaning - his hands, pressed against his back, let him know it's ok.

They sit together, curled into each other's embrace, and they drink the fruity wine in their glasses and cling to each other as they fall. It's not beautiful, it's ugly and weird and they'll laugh about it in the morning when they wake. For now, they hold on. Neither of them cry, but they know that even if they don't, the sadness is there and they acknowledge it. For now.

Tomorrow, they'll try and be ok. Hiro smiles through his sadness and Soul kisses him to try in vain to banish those dark thoughts he knows are there, circling around this petite blond's head, lurking behind blue eyes. "Just hold me" is whispered against his neck, by a voice that trembled and broke over the words like a glass hitting the floor.

By the time they stumble into bed and fall asleep wrapped around each other, the bottle is halfway empty. Or, as Soul says, halfway full.

X Line Break X

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Hiro isn't sleeping, curled amongst the white sheets of his bed. His eyes are wide open, staring unblinking at the open window. He breathes even, head resting upon Soul's chest, blond hair splayed out in rivets of pale gold, obscuring the scar there. He sighs and a hand runs down his back, nails scratching lightly at the skin marked by scars he shouldn't have. Soul is awake now, red eyes bleary with sleep, but warm with love.

Hiro smiles and lets himself be kissed, and he lets someone chase away the darkness in his head. They do this, to each other; chase away insanity, little demons, and the darkness they fight every day.

Hiro murmurs a soft "I'm ok" even though most of him isn't. He doesn't need to mention this, or explain it, for the white haired weapon knows it already. They smile and lay in the silent, still room, and eventually fall asleep with bodies pressed as close together as they can be.

Neither of them are ok, neither of them know if they'd ever be ok, and that is alright. All they need is this - to pretend the world outside their windows and doors doesn't exist, that this is their haven and things are going to be ok, one day, eventually. And then, maybe, tomorrow they can pretend long enough to get through the day with reminders of the past all around them, threatening to make them give up and fall, threatening their will to fight and stay afloat.

In the morning, Hiro makes a note to keep fighting, as Soul hands him his coffee and kisses him sweetly. He wants to stay afloat.


End file.
